


Timestamp: Traditions

by TheRighteousMan (FullmetalFlameElric)



Series: Growing Pains [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Family, Halloween, Pack Feels, Samhain, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalFlameElric/pseuds/TheRighteousMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has always held fast to the few traditions he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timestamp: Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah... this is kind of a look at how my family used to spend Halloween, and how I am planning on spending it with my own family when the time finally comes. For now, however, it's a glimpse.
> 
> Quick note: Samhain is pronounced "sow-un"
> 
> The song at the end is "All Souls Night" by Loreena McKennitt
> 
> I won't bother with ages this time. Sorry, but this is a time spread so there's a lot.

Stiles doesn’t remember his first Samhain. He doesn’t remember any of them until he’s three. It’s his first vivid memory of his mother, watching her as she washed apples and started on the makings of the night’s supper. He remembers staying up late and falling asleep to the comforting warmth radiating from the bonfire in their backyard. He remembers going out with his mother while his father stayed back to hand out candy. He was a gnome, he remembers.

After that, Stiles always looked forward to Samhain. It was a family tradition to have a large supper and then go guising, as his mother called it. After, Stiles would fall asleep in his mother’s arms, a bon fire roaring happily before them as she hummed and sang him to sleep with songs he barely understood.

When he met Scott, the boy has asked him why he always called it Samhain when it was Halloween. They got into a fight over it, Stiles tackling the boy to the ground on the playground. They were best friends the next day and the McCalls were joining them for their yearly tradition.

And then Stiles’ mom got sick. And Stiles watched as she wasted away. The first Samahin without her, Stiles tried to cook and burnt the food. He cried himself to sleep in his own bed, his father asleep on the couch with a bottle of Jack on the floor. It went on like that for the first three years before Stiles wanted more.

 

When he was twelve, he did research on what he could remember. He bought candles and lit them around the house in windows. He set them up around his room and would sit and talk to his mother as if she were there. He always made sure there were apples around, left out for any wandering spirit passing by. His father gave him an odd look the first time he came home to find a full supper on the table, just like Stiles’ mother used to make. It wasn’t the best. He’d added too much salt and burnt the pies, but it was still better than not doing it at all.

The next year, Stiles set an extra place for his mother. John cried while he did dishes before composing himself and ushering Stiles out the door to get the bonfire going. Stiles buthered the songs he remembered his mom singing, but his dad remembered them well enough to pick up some of the slack.

When Stiles was fourteen, he memorized the songs. He even taught himself to play his mother’s mandolin and had Scott teach him guitar. It was the first year Samhain was real with them again. It was the first year Stiles could have sworn he’d heard his mother singing with them late at night as the bonfire danced in the darkness.

It became their tradition.

 

When he was fifteen, Stiles convinced Scott and Melissa to join them, Scott’s father having walked out mere months beforehand. They didn’t miss a single one after if they were able to.

 

The next Samhain was hectic, but still Stiles found time to sit down and take refuge in the tradition.

 

When he was seventeen, he was left to his own devices. His father was working and Melissa was stuck in the ER all night as the main nurse. Scott had dragged the pack off into the woods for the full moon, wanting to run with them. So it had really only left Stiles to his usual ritual. He’d been making supper when he caved and dug his phone out.

Lydia met him at the Hale house, the light slowly fading into the tree tops and starts coming out to glitter in the night. Together, they sat and shared a meal large enough for an entire family, Stiles managing to get Lydia to take some of the food home with her. It was quiet, the two of them setting up the wood for the bon fire before she finally spoke up.

“Why the Hale house?” she asked, turning to look at Stiles.

The teen glanced at her before turning back to the small sparks he’d made with the grass kindling. Taking a breath and focusing, he gently blew on it. The wood burst into flame, snaps and pops singing from within the wood. He ignored the frown Lydia directed at him.

“Because Samhain is meant to be celebrated with the spirits of those passed…” he explained, taking a seat on a log he had pulled from further in the preserve. Lydia was seated on one of her own, a mug of cider in her hands to keep her fingers warm from the October chill.

“So you came to the Hale house?”

He shrugged, head ducked down slightly. “..... They’re alone…” He finally muttered.

Lydia’s frown deepened. “And this has nothing to do with Derek?”

His silence was answer enough.

 

The first Samhain Stiles spent with Derek was the first time Stiles left his dad to do whatever he wanted. The man chose to watch horror movies and hand out candy while sneaking as much of it for himself as he could while Stiles wasn’t around to regulate his intake. The heat of the fire warmed their skin as they lay back in the grass. Around them, the whispers of voices carried on the wind. With each soft laugh, a hand ghosted along skin.

 

The next year Stiles integrated the pack. He found out that, yes, werewolves could, in fact, get drunk. It just took nearly an entire liquor store to make it happen. He spent a good portion of that night contemplating Castiel as a werewolf instead of a smiting angel of the lord.

 

The first Samhain they spent as parents, Stiles stayed with baby Laura, singing to her as the night wore on. Derek was always nearby, always within reaching distance.

They raised their children to take comfort in the dark of All Hallows Eve, with the roaring bonfire before them, and the old year behind them. It was tradition. One Stiles passed to his own children, to his pack, to his family.

And each year it was honored.

 

Stiles began making masks for his children they day they were born. The day they were named, he’d sit up late and design the base of the mask. And each year they grew older, he’d add onto the mask, making it completely their own. Laura a fox, John a wolf, and Alyssa a hawk.

They were crafted from leather, feathers, and hair. He even ground and made the paints by hand. Jewels were found and hand picked then cut to a specific shape by Stiles, himself.

It was, after all, his gift to his children.

 

Sitting around the fire, Laura was crowded by small children, John beside her as she played the mandolin Stiles had given her when she was younger. Together, their voices rose and fell in a harmony. She was sixteen, a young woman of age, now. And for once, she and her siblings were getting along. Samhain had always had that effect on the pack. All grievances and feuds were set aside for the one night of the year. It was a rule Stiles had made and one he’d enforced until it was second nature for them all.

_”I can see the lights in the distance_  
 _trembling in the dark cloak of night._  
 _Candles and lanterns are dancing dancing_  
 _a waltz on All Souls Night.”_

The lyrics drifted to him and Stiles smiled softly, shifting the silk wrapped mask in his hands. He glanced at Derek and nodded to Laura before making his way over. Waiting until the song was over, Stiles finally tapped her on the shoulder.

“Laura…”

She blinked and turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

“I have something for you… I was waiting until you were sixteen… till it was finished.” Stiles explained. She tilted her head curiously, eyes going to the silk as he handed it to her. “My mother made one for me, but never got the chance to finish it… yours, however, is finished.” he added.

She took it and slowly slid the silk aside, eyes widening as she looked upon the russet colored mask. A snout sloped down the curve where it would cover the nose, a set of wide ears pointed and tall against the side and top of the mask. Browns, golds, reds, and oranges blazed in the light of the fire, white shining from around the cheeks and inner part of the ears. A single red blood stone was cut, resting directly at the center of the mask’s forehead.

Immediately, her mind drifted to the bear mask she’d seen kept safely in Stiles’ few possessions that were once his mother’s. Her chest tightened and she shifted, pulling Stiles into a slightly awkward half hug.

“Thank you…” she whispered.

Stiles just smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re welcome, Laura…”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, guys! Stay safe!


End file.
